


Royal Family Week Drabbles

by TalesOfOnyxBats



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Broken, Broken Families, Coming of Age, Drabble Collection, Dysfunctional Family, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Poisoning, Puberty, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-10-30 14:45:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17830562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalesOfOnyxBats/pseuds/TalesOfOnyxBats
Summary: A collection of drabbles relating to the Royal Fire family. Drifting: Iroh watches the family grow apart. Ceremony: Azula's coronation is nothing like she thought it would be. Broken: Ursa observes the results of Zuko and Azula being under Ozai's guardianship for so long. Coming of Age: Azula begins her trip into womanhood and Ursa isn’t around to offer her a mother’s advice.





	1. Drifting

They were all drifting. 

Drifting apart in a way he couldn’t stop. 

He was only a child but even he could see it. The rift that was growing so steadily.

 

It grew when father yelled at mother. 

When mother hollered about how he was turning his daughter into a monster. 

When father yelled back that she was making a weakling of her son. 

Zuko pressed his hands to his ears, hating that he had heard his father say such things of him. Hoping that Azula would never hear what Ursa had said of her. 

 

It grew when mother took him to the turtle duck pond. 

When she very actively excluded Azula.

Azula was much meaner to him that night, pushing and shoving him and mocking him for being unable to defend himself. And it grew some more when Ursa caught her doing so and sent her off to bed with a harsh scolding. 

He could see it in Azula’s eyes that she blamed him. 

 

It grew once again when Ozai took Azula off for firebending lessons.

This time the rift’s growth was his doing. Perhaps in the same way Azula resented him, he resented her for being the sole attention of father. He called her a freak and a weirdo for her blue fire. Who had blue fire anyways? It was just her. She was the odd one. She was scary and mother knew it. 

 

And further still they drifted at the dinner table. 

They soon argued openly about how the children were being raised. 

Zuko got to hear about how he was a disappointment and ‘a priss of a boy’. 

And Azula got to hear about how she was a demon child with no ability to display compassion. 

Zuko got to hear about how he was useless and better off dead. 

And Azula was reminded that there was something wrong with her and that she couldn’t be fixed. 

 

For it they had taken it upon themselves to fill those roles. Azula became every bit as cold and cruel as Ursa claimed. Zuko, himself made a point of shaming father at every chance he got. For it Ursa and Ozai argued more. 

For it, Zuko and Azula mimicked them. 

 

The rift was spreading fast and there was a clear divide. It was Ozai against Ursa. And then Ursa against Azula and Ozai against Zuko. And then it was Zuko against Azula. 

Iroh was an outlier. 

A spectator on the side, shaking his head sadly at how far the family had drifted.


	2. Ceremony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was supposed to be the most important day of her life...how had it gone so wrong?

A splendid fire dances on her finger tips. 

This isn’t how it was supposed to be.

 

Zuko surges at her with full fury and what she is certain is no mercy. Azula returns the relentlessness in full. A burst of orange flame hits her in the side and she topples, rolling a few times, each motion sending a new sensation of pain coiling all over her body. She stands back up, fighting with her own body for energy. She pants softly, she can’t recall ever tiering so fast. Yet, she hasn’t slept in days. It is taking its toll. 

 

He taunts and mocks. And then he falls. 

This isn’t how it was supposed to be. 

 

The electricity still tingles on her fingertips. Soft sparks reminding her that she had just shot her own brother down. That he is laying on his back, convulsing some. Maybe dying. Despite her own words, she has trouble fathoming that this was how it all was meant to unfold. 

For her. 

For him. 

For the both of them. 

 

The sound of water echos in her ears. 

A loathsome sound. 

A terrible one. 

 

Her world is growing ever more distant. She is losing touch with it. No. She had already lost touch with it. She is simply losing it more and more. And the waterbender provokes her still. She wants to cry out, to put her hands to her ears and drown it out; the splashing and the unrelenting voices both. They distract her. But she doesn’t have time for crying nor holding her hands to her ears. She has to fight. She has to win. 

It is all she has left.

 

Her arms are bound behind her back. 

She is soaked to the core. Humiliated.

This isn’t how it was supposed to be. 

 

She has made a spectacle of herself. A cackling, mad spectacle. Deep down she wishes that Katara would have just left her under the ice to drown. It would have been a mercy. Instead she has to think. She has to think about how she has lost and how she isn’t herself anymore. How she might never be herself again. She is on the edge of sobbing but she keeps her tears in check. She won’t give the waterbender the satisfaction of seeing her weep. 

And then he stands up.

 

A scream tears from her throat. 

A fountain of flame spills from her lips.

She aches all over. 

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. 

 

Frankly, the sound is foreign. She has trouble processing that it comes from her own mouth. They look at her with sorrow and pity and she wants to flee. Steal away to somewhere more private where she can mourn the loss of herself and her potential without scrutiny. But she is tethered. She can no longer fight, neither can she retreat. She is forced to stay there, emotionally naked.  She wishes that they would stop looking at her like she is some kind of cornered animal--with fear, concern, and sorrow in their eyes. She wishes that they would leave her to deal with her shame alone. 

 

This was supposed to be her special day. Her coronation ceremony. 

This isn’t how it was supposed to be.


	3. Broken

They were so broken that it was hard to look at. 

He had banished her and then destroyed her children. Beneath a facade of confidence and clarity she could tell that Zuko’s self-esteem was still in shambles or at the very least it had been loosely patched together waiting to be shattered again at any moment. 

 

From his manner of speech and the smile on his face, most people wouldn’t be able to tell. Most people wouldn’t even have a hint of it. But she is his mother and she knew him well. She knew him well enough to see through that Fire Lord’s smile. That brave face he put on. 

 

Deep down he was broken.

 

And he wasn’t the only one all broken up.

Beneath a facade of anger, power, and nonchalance, she could tell that Azula was in pain. She could tell that the girl was constantly on the verge of tears. Tears that she held back with all of her strength. If nothing else, Azula was a strong girl. 

 

She would attend meeting as though she hadn’t been to an institution. She would act as though thing were as they should be. She hid behind pretty speeches and sharp words. But she is her mother and...does she know her at all? She knows her just enough to know that she was disappointed in herself.

 

Deep down she was broken.

 

Her daughter talked to herself when she thought that no one was looking and her son berated himself at every chance he got and for the littlest of things. Her daughter cried herself to sleep when she thought that no one could hear and her son wept rather openly when things didn’t go quite as he had planned with the council. Neither of them seemed to know how to handle set-backs, failures, and flaws. Perhaps Zuko was a little closer, but even he had a hard time weathering it. Ozai had ingrained within the both of them that it was everything or nothing. That they were either glorious or they were failures. He’d left no middle ground; no room for the comfort of acknowledging that everyone has their imperfections. 

 

For it, he had left two broken children. Two broken children who pointed fingers at each other, wishing that they could fill in each other’s shoes. Two broken, jealous children, who fought constantly for what the other had, not truly knowing what demons came with what the other had. Two broken children who would do much better as allies. 

 

She had gone and left them at Ozai’s mercy. 

Now she had to fix what he had shattered. 

 

She was almost afraid.

Afraid and ashamed to admit to herself that she was afraid.

Because, what kind of mother is afraid of her own daughter?

 

The girl was broken and she had to make it right. Their family was broken and she had to piece them back together just as Iroh had suggested. She paused, staring at Azula. Azula who sat on her bed staring intensely at a spot on the wall. She decided to fetch Zuko. The two of the had broken alone. They will repair together. 


	4. Coming Of Age

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azula begins her trip into womanhood and Ursa isn’t around to offer her a mother’s advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never really written anything like this before, so bear with me pls.

Azula hadn’t longed for her mother in ages.   
No. That wasn’t strictly true. She hadn’t longed for her mother at all.   
Not until now. 

Not until her body finally started changing. She was an early bloomer, according to her servants. Apparently, that was something to be proud of. But she had to admit that she didn’t feel any sort of pride. She felt awkward and out of sorts and she wished that she still had Mai and TyLee around. But Mai was on her way to Omashu and TyLee...Azula didn’t know where the girl had gone to. 

At first it wasn’t so bad, she was growing taller, at least a little. Her face had lost much of its baby fat, it wasn’t quite as soft as it had been. In general, she seemed sharper, more defined in some sense. This, she was more than alright with, even if it did take some getting used to. Sometimes she would forget and her reflection would rattle her some, but the surprise would give way to that sense of pride her servants spoke of. 

It was when her robes stopped fitting right that the problems began to occur. Her servants would talk but they didn’t give much information as to exactly what was happening to her. Azula liked to think herself intelligent; she could gather well enough that her figure would eventually have some more fullness to it. More curves. But that didn’t alleviate any discomfort when it happened and she had to make her way to see the palace tailors. 

It helped even less to hear their dotting, fawning remarks.

“Our princess is becoming a woman.” Said one as she took Azula’s new measurements. 

“A beautiful woman.” Replied the other when snipping away at cloth.

They meant well. But they always left her cheeks tinged a shade or two of pink. She had done her best to keep things private but eventually the palace chatter had befallen her father’s ears. The man had pulled her to the side, she braced herself for an awkward conversation about the changes she was about to undergo and had already underwent. But instead he noted fondly, “I think that it is almost time to bring you to the council meetings.”

It had put an optimistic glimmer in her eyes. She was finally old enough to truly be a part of royal affairs. To truly make a name for herself in the family legacy. She hadn’t been left with much time to revel in it. She woke up the next morning to a stabbing pain in her abdomen and bloodied sheets.   
She was in pain.  
And it wasn’t any matter she could discuss with her father.

She wasn’t entirely sure if this matter correlated with her coming of age or if it was a chance occurrence. She hadn’t heard the servants mention anything about something like this. She wondered if something had gone amiss. 

Just like that, she wanted mother home.   
She could ask Lo and Li, but somehow that seemed bizarre. 

She supposed that she would have to pick one of her servants and inquire. She bore her discomfort throughout breakfast, hoping with all of her soul that she wasn’t making a mess of her chair. And she weathered it further as she sat for a spa treatment that did little to relieve her stress.   
For it her mood became particularly sour, worse than it had been since she had first entered womanhood.   
Finally, on the third day when she could stand no more, she made her inquiry. She was seated for another spa treatment when she finally snapped and turned to the woman running a brush through her locks. 

The woman offered her a warm and reassuring smile. She had pulled her aside and gave Azula the reassurance that she had yearned for. That there wasn’t anything wrong with her. That she wasn’t sickly and on the verge of death. The woman walked her through how to care for herself and keep herself sanitary, though Azula had figured much of that out on her own. The servant rolled her eyes and left her with a rather impressed, “I can’t believe you put up with that for three days! I cried within the first hour of not knowing what was happening.” 

Azula had shrugged it off.   
The next morning, she had a seat at the council. 

.oOo.

She had thought that, that was when she had become a woman.   
She came to realize that that wasn’t so.   
No, she had become a woman when she learned to forgive. 

Truly a woman when she found the strength to let go of the hatred and prejudices that had been instilled in her. Truly a woman when she found it in her to toss her pride to the side for a moment. A moment long enough to reach out to her brother. 

Her brother who had become a man, himself.   
With a degree of resentment she realized that he had, in some way, matured mentally sooner than she. Physically had had been on his way to manhood since thirteen, perhaps fourteen years. He truly had become a man at seventeen when he finally had the guts to look their father in the eye and choose his own path. 

Physically Azula had become a woman, or started to become one, when she was only eleven. She realized, not happily, that she hadn’t truly become so until she was, nineteen. Nineteen and finally aware that she needed to change. 

Puberty in the physical sense had been a bitch and a half. Getting a firmer, more adult, hold on her mind was twice that. 

Physically, coming of age had done her wonders. She was an alluring woman in body. She just hoped that her mental development was doing the same favors. This metamorphosis scared her almost tenfold. It seemed to break her in a way that her physical coming of age did not. It left her in tears--mostly born of frustration--more often than her first step into womanhood did.

But this time was different.   
This time when she longed for her mother’s wisdoms and comforts, she had them.

Azula closed her eyes.   
The servants were speaking of her again.  
Of another transformation. 

She made trips to the tailors when she needed to be fitted for her ceremonial wear. She was to be a sort of second in command for Fire Lord Zuko. Soon she would have a crown of her own. The same woman who had adjusted her robes so many years ago, worked with them now. Wrinkled, sometimes shaky hands took measurements and placed pins.   
Azula was patient with her. More patient with her than she had been as a girl. She listened to the woman speak about her granddaughter and how she was just learning to firebend. 

They doted over her again. About how her spirit was finally growing to meet her physical age. About how she was easier to talk to and work with. About how her soul was blossoming beautifully. In this regard she was a dreadfully late bloomer. 

But she was finally a woman through and through.   
And she finally had a functioning family.  
She stood next to Zuko, still terribly short in comparison, puberty wasn’t all too generous in that regard. He placed a hand between her shoulder blades, a gesture she returned. They stood before a crowd, she picked out her mother. He would soon accompany her to the crown.

A man and a woman. A brother and a sister. And a teary eye’d mother with a smile on her face.


	5. Beautiful

The babe squirmed in Ursa’s arms and her eyes welled with tears. “She’s beautiful.” She whispered as the newborn curls her little fingers around her pointer. “Look at her, Ozai, she’s…” 

“She’s perfect.” He agreed. 

The baby blinked and opened her eyes. She seemed disoriented, but who wouldn’t be, so new to this world. She babbled something and started to cry. Ursa rocked her gently until the crying slowed again. She brushed tentative hands over the infant’s soft fuzz of hair. And the baby was back to soft coos and gurgled babbles. Curious gold eyes tried to take in the room, but Ursa couldn’t imagine that they were able to make sense of anything they fell upon.   
But that stare.   
It was vivid and intense. 

“She has the eyes of a promising firebender.” One of the fire sages noted. 

“She has that spark.” Ozai noted with a head nod. It took all of his willpower to not mention that it was the spark he didn’t see in his son. He held his arms out. 

Just as Ozai had withheld commentary, Ursa did her best to not spitefully mutter, “oh, you actually want to hold this one?” Instead she helped her husband cradle the baby in his arms. “I picked out our son’s name, would you like to name our daughter?” She hoped that he would, after having almost nothing to do with Zuko. 

He looked at the squirmy baby for a moment. Watch her aimlessly kick her legs out, as if trying to get a sense for them. She let out a particularly loud coo. She was indeed going to be a fierce one. “She is Azula. A great firebender shall be named for a firebender just as powerful.” He declared. 

Something in Ursa churned unpleasantly. Azula was just a babe and the man was already setting high standards for the poor thing. She pushed back her fear, today was a happy day. It was going to stay a happy day. 

“Send for Zuko, I’d like him to meet his sister before the ceremony begins.” 

Azula mumbled some more baby talk as Ozai passed her back to Ursa. Ursa held the child close and let her nestle her head against her chest. She tickled the baby’s tummy just as she had done Zuko when he was a newborn. Azula doesn’t give the same chirpy, delighted giggle that Zuko had. But she was smiling. Smiling a teeny, toothless, baby smile.   
And Ursa smiled back. 

She had a daughter. A precious, beautiful, daughter. 

Zuko bursts through the door. “Lemme hol ‘er lemme hol ‘er mama!”

Ursa smiled. “Not right now Zuko.” She replied gently. “Babies are…” she tried to think of a way to explain it. “Remember the toy ship I gave you?”

He nodded. 

“And the toy palace?”

He nodded again. 

“What did you do with those?”

He gave her a wide-eyed innocent stare before picking the vase off of the nightstand and dropping it. “Whoops.” 

Ursa sighed. “That is why you can’t hold the baby yet, Zuko.”

“Oh.” He replied. “I won’t akadenly drop her.”

“That’s the thing about accidents, Zuko, you don’t ever think that they are going to happen. Your sister, Azula, isn’t a toy that we can fix or buy again. Does that make sense.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Alright, come here.” She beckoned him forward and hunched over enough to let him see his little sister. 

“She’s so squishy.” He pokes at her cheek. 

“Careful.” Ursa cationed. 

“Oh, sorry, mama.” He held his hand out and let Azula grasp at it. He beamed wider than she had even seen. “I like her mama.”

“We all like her.” Ozai commented from across the room. “She’s a true firebender. A true heir.” 

Ursa didn’t want to think about that yet. Instead she focused on watching Zuko kiss Azula’s forehead. The baby smiled again.


	6. Reckless

She was so close to the edge. He noticed her doing things. Small things at first, like leaving candles burning in her room as she slept and leaving the doors and windows open and unlocked. And then it was more mild, she would cross the street without looking up at all and just generally make herself unaware of her surroundings and whereabouts. On one occasion, his niece had wandered into the bad side of town. From there she began crossing bridges and makeshift paths that weren’t tested for stability. She would take food from people she’d never met. 

That was what had done her in. 

Azula still had a controversial reputation and a good cut of people who wanted her body to fall lifeless. The princess had accepted so many food and drink offerings it was impossible to trace exactly who had tinged their ‘gift’ with poison. 

It didn’t matter in that moment. What mattered was driving the poison out of her body. It was slow acting had her bedridden for a little over a two weeks. She had grown disconcerting thinner. Her body spasmed every now again, sometimes launching itself into an all out seizure.   
During one such instance, she had fallen from her bed, knocking her arm into the nightstand. The first blow alone had been damaging, the twitching had snapped the bone more. 

Zuko had been the one to find her weeping to herself with her arm bent awkwardly. A spill of blood seeping where the bone had popped through skin that had almost no thickness to it. The physicians saw to it that her arm was bandaged accordingly. She was monitored intensely since the incident. 

Oftentimes Ursa would sit at the foot of Azula’s bed telling her old stories and lore. It was hard to tell if she was ignoring the woman out of resentment or because the poison had drained her to the point of complete indifference.   
Indifferent accept for the few occasions where the pain was too much and she finally had to whimper. 

Iroh wondered why she had done it, why she had been so careless. 

He thought that she might have wanted to die. But this death was so cruelly slow that she was probably regretting it. Or at the very least, regretted that she hadn’t found a faster way. By week three, a sickly hue had taken to her skin. By the middle of week four her face, fingers, and toes were puffy, with poison and her breathing was growing shallow. 

That was when the Avatar returned with exotic and rare herbs. There was a tireless effort to crush and mix them and then a bigger effort to get the princess to swallow it safely with her throat as swollen as it was. 

By week five the swelling had gone down and her face was settling into a less grotesque hue. Week six had her breathing right and the seizures occurring less frequently. By week seven color was returning to her face and she had her appetite back.  
By week eight she was walking again.   
Slowly and dizzily, but she was on her feet. 

Iroh thought that she still ought to be in bed resting, but a fire like that wouldn’t dim easily. She was already trying to get herself back into the habit of firebendng.   
Seeing such a renewed vigor in her had him considering that the poison had been a good thing.   
It had showed her that, despite it all, she still had a family that wanted to take care of her, wanted to see her alive.   
It had given Ursa the inspiration to try to make amends with her daughter. It had given Zuko the willingness to forgive her, even though she didn’t yet make an apology. It had given Iroh himself the desire to reach out to her at last. 

And for so long he was certain that his words and advice had fallen on deaf ears. From across the room she stared at him.  
Her cheeks were still somewhat hollow and her clothes still fit her alarmingly loosely. Her eyes still had bags, but there was life in them. He hadn’t seen her look so passionate, so alive, since her fall from grace.   
She turned away.

He watched her light the fire in her palm and run through the most basic firebending stances. She did so slowly, taking the care to not do something that would have her bed bound again. For the first time in so long, Azula was smiling. 

Perhaps today he was the day he would teach her some new techniques.


End file.
